Madness is in the Mind of the Beholder
by Helena2
Summary: A chance to explore an alternate persepective on quicksilver madness


The following was originally intended to be a short examination of quicksilver madness. However, it grew to be the fic that ate my hard drive. Suggestions for trimming dead wood and tightening up scenes most welcome. Usual disclaimers. One or two profanities. No sexual situations - Helena

MADNESS IS IN THE MIND OF THE BEHOLDER

Claire sat quietly, staring at The Official as he carefully read her report. Based upon all outwards appearances, she was completely calm and unconcerned with Charlie's take on the report. However, her mind whirled as she tried to anticipate his every argument in denial. She knew her proposed plan would work, knew that Darien would greatly benefit; but she also knew Charlie's penchant for secrets. 

Claire gave an involuntary twitch when Charlie finally deigned to speak. Without looking up, The Official uttered the unexpected, "Okay. I approve. I want to meet her first however, and give her my own instructions."

Charlie handed the file back to Claire, but before he let it go, he gave her a hard look. "If this fails or backfires in anyway, I will be holding you personally responsible." He released the file. "Dismissed."

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Claire sat at her desk, tapping a pencil on the top of the closed file, trying to burn off some of the nervous energy. "Dismissed my ass," she said to the empty room. "What does he think I am? One of his little lackeys or field agents?" She sighed and looked down at the closed file again. 

"I know this will work," she said under her breath. "It has to work." 

Three quicksilvermad episodes in three weeks on three missions had pushed Darien to the edge. He lived in fear of the madness, and what he might do or who he might harm. On the last mission, Darien had pleaded with her to provide him with a back up shot. Against the orders of The Official, and against her own better judgement, she had complied with Darien's request. As expected, Hobbes had reported that Darien had taken the shot with only half the segments red. If this kept up, Darien would develop a tolerance to the counteragent long before Claire's research even came close to an alternative.

Claire picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. After three rings, the phone was answered.

"Aikikai Dojo. Brenna speaking. How may I help you?

"Brenna? It's Claire. I have a project for you," Claire said.

"Well, I'm fine thank you. Glad you asked. Things have been going well for me too," Brenna said sarcastically. "It's been a long time Claire. Don't you think a pleasantry or two might have been in order?"

Claire sighed. "I'm sorry Bree, and you're right. It's just, I really need your help. And I need it now."

Brenna recognized the tension in Claire's voice. "You want to meet somewhere Claire, or is it the kind of assignment that you can give me the details over the phone?" Brenna asked.

"We will need to meet," Claire said. "Preferably in my lab."

Brenna looked at her watch. "Well, I have a class at two, but can get one of the students to teach it for me. Where's the lab?"

Claire gave Brenna directions and they set the meeting for two that afternoon.

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Brenna flipped the pages of the file, re-reading bits and pieces here and there. "You guys really know how to fuck up a person's life. You know that?"

Claire gave Brenna a dirty look. "I had nothing to do with creating the situation. I'm simply trying to figure out how to fix it."

Brenna raised an eyebrow as she looked over the file at Claire. "So, the quicksilver builds in his blood, affecting higher cortical functions, eventually releasing all inhibitions? And you want me to teach him how to deal with that so that he doesn't become a raving lunatic? You certainly don't ask for much." Brenna flipped a few more pages. "Uh, Claire. You left out some info here. What exactly does this quicksilver stuff do?"

Claire fidgeted with her pencil a bit. "You have the clearance to know, however, I think it would be better if you let Darien reveal that secret to you. He's still pretty touchy about the whole thing."

"Good point, Claire," Brenna said. "It might make him more comfortable to know he has secrets that I don't know about. Is that why you left out his background, how he ended up the lab rat?"

Claire nodded.

"So when do I meet The Official?" Brenna asked.

"Now is as good a time as any," Claire said.

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They entered the office to find The Official seated at his desk, carefully scanning a file opened before him. Without preamble, Claire made the introduction.

"This is Brenna McGeehee. You wanted to speak with her before she begins.

"Well, well, well," Brenna began, walking forward and offering her right hand. "It's been what, seven years James? You didn't tell me that you worked for James Alda, Claire."

The Official took her hand, but looked at Claire. "There will be no mention of this Claire. Please leave us."

Claire raised an eyebrow, but left the room without comment.

"It has been a long time," The Official said. "Have a seat and let's talk a bit; work out some ground rules. And by the way, around here I am known as Charlie Borden or simply 'The Official'."

"Hold it right there Chuck," Brenna said. "You know my rules, and I won't be bending them for you. I will do what you have hired me for, and I will give you general progress reports, but I will not provide you with any other information. What Darien and I may or may not discuss will remain confidential."

Brenna shifted a bit in her chair, ready to stand up and leave. She didn't really want this assignment anyway. The only reason she had even considered the contract was because Claire had asked. And Claire never asked for help unless she had tried every alternative.

Charlie steepled his hands, musing for a moment, all the while staring at Brenna . "So you're going to stick to your rules, even knowing that you're probably the only hope he has of avoiding the nuthatch in the next couple of years?"

Brenna stood. "Look Chuck, or whatever name you're currently going by, you know me and you know my rules. I'm not budging an inch. I'm certain that you invested a shit load of money in this guy. You want to protect that investment?"

At The Official's slight nod, Brenna continued, "Then we play by my rules. I give you the basic updates, and all else remains confidential. I let you know when I need him for extended periods. I let you know when he can and can't hit the field. And last but not least, I am given clearance to know whatever it is I think I need to know."

Brenna loosely crossed her arms and stared down at The Official, awaiting his response.

Charlie silently sighed. "All right." He stood and walked from behind the desk, leading Brenna to the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a meeting elsewhere. I'll expect daily reports." With that, they both left the room.

Darien materialized, but didn't move from his position by the window. He had know that something was up, hence his decision to spend some "quality" time hanging in The Official's office. However, he hadn't expected the introduction of outside players. While one portion of his mind absently toyed with scenarios to give the Keeper in exchange for a shot, the other portion wondered about this woman, Brenna. He wondered if he could really trust her. Was she really someone from outside The Agency, without impetus. Or had she known he was there, and simply acted accordingly?

"Paranoid Plaza there Darien. How the hell could she have known you were here?" he muttered to himself. 

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Darien was sitting on the exam table when Claire entered the lab. "Oh good, Darien. I was just planning on calling you."

Darien offered her his wrist without comment. Claire noted that the tattoo was almost completely red. As she withdrew the serum and began the dilution process, she gave Darien a slight grin. "You know, you owe me about a week's worth of testing in the near future for all these unauthorized shots."

Darien frowned. "What would you performing tests on me have to do with my shots?" he asked.

"Darien," Claire said. "How do you think I account for the unauthorized shots? I tell The Official that you and I are conducting tests with the invisibility, and that I therefore, must give you the counteragent. He really is quite the penny pincher." She withdrew the needle and patted his arm absentmindedly. "There, all done. Care to tell me why you were invisible for so long without authorization.?"

"Not really," Darien said. He softened the comment with a warm smile. "I guess I do you owe you. I never really thought about you having to explain the shots to him. Though, don't expect a whole week of me playing lab rat," Darien said with a tinge of disgust in his voice. With that, Darien hopped off the table and headed for the door.

"Darien, wait," Claire said. "I have arranged for someone to work with you; to help you control yourself without the need of a counteragent."

Darien stopped and slowly turned around. "What do you mean, 'without the need of a counteragent' and who is she?" he asked.

"Ah, well. I guess that explains the need for the shot this morning," Claire said with a grin. "`She' is an old colleague and friend of mine. She has some unique talents, and may be able to help you go longer without the need of the counteragent. The Official has approved her working with you. And she has full clearance." Claire handed Darien a card with an address and name. "Her name is Brenna. I think you'll like her."

Darien absently flicked the card a couple of times. "When am I supposed to meet her.?"

"She will be at that address all day today. She said to tell you to drop by whenever you liked," Claire said.

Darien slid the card into his hip pocket, leaving his hand there. He stood quietly for a few moments while Claire waited. Very softly, and in a voice tinged with a slight hope, he said, "Claire? Do you really think she can help?"

Claire laid a comforting hand on Darien's shoulder. "Yes, Darien," she said. "I really do."

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Darien wasn't really certain what he had expected, but the building before him certainly was not it. The address on the card turned out to be a three story building in the Gaslamp district. The bottom floor was given over to a martial arts studio, while the second and third stories appeared to be either businesses or living quarters of some type.

Darien opened the door and entered, the chimes overhead signaling his arrival. Brenna sat in the middle of the large mat with her back to the door in a standard lotus position. The room itself was sparsely decorated: weapons displayed in racks on one wall, a few Japanese block prints on another, and an altar of some sort on the third wall.

Without moving, Brenna said, "I'll be with you in just a moment Darien."

Darien's face showed surprise at her recognition, but he made no comment. He watched Brenna as she slowly stretched for a few minutes, then lithely turned and stood. She walked to the edge of the mat, turned and bowed at the altar, and then donned a pair of plain slippers.

Offering her hand, she spoke, "You must be Darien. I'm Brenna. Why don't we go out back and chat for a while. I'm certain you must have a ton of questions." Brenna led the way towards an inconspicuous door set in the back wall of the dojo. As she walked, she asked, "Would you care for anything to drink? Juice, soda, coffee, tea, beer?"

"No thanks," said Darien as they entered a lush atrium. Plants grew in every niche and corner, in every conceivable type of container. The room was set with beautifully patterned tiles. Expansive panels of crystal clear glass formed three walls and the ceiling. Two large, sliding glass doors led out into an exquisitely patterned Japanese meditation garden. "Nice," Darien said.

"Sit anywhere you feel comfortable. I'm going to pop into the kitchen and brew some tea. I'll be right back," said Brenna as she disappeared through the door.

Darien walked slowly around the room, stopping here and there to examine the odd object or enjoy the scent of a flower. A slow smile began spreading across his face. The constant tension lines in his forehead began to ease and fade out for the first time in months. His shoulders began relaxing bit by bit. He found an overstuffed wicker chair in a corner, surrounded by lovely smelling jasmine and providing an excellent view of the peaceful garden outside. A conveniently located table provided an excellent footrest. 

Darien found that his eyes had slid halfway shut without his notice, and his mind had slowly emptied. The peace filling him made him suddenly aware of the extreme state his nerves had held for the past few months. He glanced around the room and looked back at the garden, suddenly realizing that everything in the room, including the absence of Brenna, had been specifically designed to instill in him this sense of peace. With the realization, a large part of the spell was broken. He pulled his feet off the table and sat up, his natural suspicions returning.

Brenna entered the room with a small tray, complete with teapot and cups. Without hesitation, she headed toward the corner hiding Darien. "I didn't think the peace of this room would hold you for long," she said. She placed the tray on the table recently vacated by Darien's feet and began pouring. As she offered the first cup to Darien, after having taken the obligatory sip herself, she smiled and glanced around the atrium. "This room was designed to instill peace. That is its purpose. However, it was not designed as a trap for you. You're kind of paranoid, you know that?" Brenna poured a cup for herself, took a seat opposite Darien, and began slowly sipping her tea.

Darien inhaled the fragrance of the tea for a moment, then took a cautious sip. He stared at the delicate cup, so small in his large hands, then finally looked up at Brenna. "Who are you?" he asked without preamble.

"Hrm….," Brenna murmured, tucking her legs up under her in a calculated effort to look as harmless as possible. "Kind of a broad question. So I'll tell you what I think you want to know, and then you can tell me if I was right." She gave Darien a quick grin. "My name is Brenna McGeehee. I once worked for an agency similar to yours. Hence, I am familiar with your general situation, and I have the necessary clearance to work with you. Claire and I were students together. Hence, it was me she contacted. I was a dual major in biology and psychology. Hence, I have the necessary education to understand both the science of the gland, and the skill to work with you psychologically. Finally…." Brenna stared straight into Darien's eyes, "I am an empath."

A small hint of surprise crept into Darien's eyes. "You read minds?" he asked.

"I said 'empath', not 'psychic'. When I choose, I can feel what you are feeling. I cannot read your mind Darien," Brenna said with a trace of disgust.

"Well, if you can't read my mind, what have you been told?" Darien asked suspiciously.

Brenna mused for a moment, taking a few sips of her tea before it cooled completely. "Well, not much really. I know that you had a gland implanted in your brain that releases a hormone called 'quicksilver'; that as the hormone levels build in your blood, your normal inhibitions are reduced, eventually to the point of negation; that a counteragent was developed, but must be administered at least every six days, sometimes sooner; and that it is only because of your need for this counter agent that you were wrangled into serving as the Agency." Brenna met Darien's eyes for a few moments. "Perhaps the better question would be 'What don't I know?' I don't know what the hormone or the gland do and I know nothing about your life now, or prior to the experiment."

Darien gave Brenna a rather skeptical look. "You're trying to tell me that you have full clearance to know everything, and that's all you know?"

Brenna untucked her feet, placing them firmly on the floor. She leaned slightly forward, giving Darien a gentle smile. "Claire and I both felt that it would be best that you be allowed to keep your secrets until you are willing to reveal them. However, you do need to know that the more information I possess, the better I will be able to help you."

"What is there to know?" Darien asked bitterly. "It takes over. I lose control."

"Darien, that's a scientific impossibility. The gland is not sentient. It can't take over."

"I don't really care whether it's possible or not. That's what it feels like in my head. I start to think and do things that I simply wouldn't do," Darien said.

Brenna refreshed the tea in her cup, then took a long sip, gathering her thoughts. "So, you're saying that you feel trapped in your own mind when this "madness" hits…that you can do nothing to control your actions. Basically, you sit there and watch someone or something else use your body?"

Darien looked away uncomfortably. "Well, no. Not exactly."

"Then why do you think the gland is controlling you? I don't understand," said Brenna.

"It's more the feeling I have after the fact. After I get the shot of counteragent. I look at my actions, what I was thinking and feeling, the things I said and did. I know that it wasn't me," said Darien.

Brenna returned to her "harmless" posture, attempting to encourage Darien in his dialogue. "So what do you feel during the episodes then?"

Darien stood with unconscious grace, and began moving about the room in short bursts. He massaged the back of his neck in a clearly unconscious gesture. Finally, he turned, giving Brenna a direct look. "I like it. I enjoy the freedom of not having to worry about what other's may be thinking or feeling. There's a sense of freedom…of ultimate power." Darien looked away from Brenna's calm.

"You have no idea what that's like. That simply cannot be a part of me," Darien whispered.

Brenna stood and walked over to Darien, laying a gentle hand on his back. "No, I don't know what that feels like, but I need to. I need to feel what you feel during one of those episodes so that I can figure out how to help you."

Darien turned around, slow horror growing in his eyes. "You want me to go mad so you can "feel" what it's like? You've got to be kidding me. I am not going down that road on purpose."

Brenna removed her hand, and returned to her seat. She calmly poured fresh cups of tea for both of them. The ritual completed, she inquired casually, "You've never gone ahead and used the gland, even knowing that you were in need of a shot? Never once refused to use the gland because you feared the madness?"

Darien didn't return to his seat. "That's different. I have to use the gland sometimes, whether I want to or not. People's lives are at stake."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" Brenna asked.

Darien walked into Brenna's line of site, starring down at her. "Are you trying to tell me that you think I want to go mad?"

Brenna shrugged. "You don't believe that some small part of you doesn't long for that power? That freedom? The release from responsibility or consequences? After all, do any of your co-workers hold you responsible for your actions while mad?"

Darien flopped into the chair as Brenna looked up to meet his gaze. 

"No, they don't hold me responsible," he said. "That still doesn't mean I'm going to let myself go mad just so you can 'feel' what it's like."

"Well," Brenna said. "You think about it. If not, then I will just have to tag along on some assignments until I have a chance to understand what you are going through. Until then, we'll just get you started on a couple of exercises." At Darien's raised eyebrows, Brenna clarified. "Kind of a cross between therapy and training. Are you familiar with transcendental meditation?"

Darien nodded.

"Good." Brenna smiled. "At least I won't have to teach you how to do that. What I need for you to do is meditate for an hour every day. Following your meditation, I want you to sit and think of everything you would like to do and experience in life, without consideration for the consequences of any of those actions or experiences."

Darien stared at her for a few silent moments. "So that's it? Just meditate and think of what I want?"

"No. I said think of what you would like to do in life, without regard to the consequences… There is a difference, Darien."

Darien cocked his head slightly, finally giving a slight nod. "Okay. That it for this session doc?"

Brenna sighed softly. "Yes, Darien. That's it for this session. Do you need me to show you the way out?"

Darien shook his head and grinned. "I think I can find my way." He left without further comment.

Brenna watched him leave, thoughts skating calmly across the surface of her mind. "There goes a rather complex young man" she thought to herself. Without effort, she assumed a lotus position and began meditating upon the problem she had agreed to solve.

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Hobbes entered the Keep without fanfare. Claire turned to greet him.

"Good morning Bobby." Claire sat there staring at the antsy agent. As usual, Bobby was dressed to perfection. "Quite handsome," Claire admitted to herself.

"Claire. I was wondering if you had seen Fawkes," Hobbes said with obvious discomfort.

Claire gave a reassuring smile. She liked Hobbes, she really did. She just wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with him…yet. "I believe that Darien is meditating down in the Archives, Bobby. Why? Did you have need of him?"

Hobbes was disconcerted by the rather direct smile that the Keeper gave him. He was willing to acknowledge his feelings for this woman, but she was so far out of his league, he never knew quite how to take her. Without preamble, he turned and headed for the door. He threw a quick comment over his shoulder, "Yeah, the Fat Man needs him," as he exited the Keep.

Hobbes walked down the hallway, curious as to why Darien would have chosen the Archives as his hangout. 

Hobbes found Darien sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor. Hobbes watched his partner for a few silent moments. He had been briefed on this Brenna character. In fact, he had worked with Brenna once or twice in the past and considered her to be an expert at her then chosen profession. She knew her business, her strengths and weaknesses; however, he had never really pegged her as the therapist type. He also knew that if she said she could help Darien survive these madness episodes, than she could. It was as simple as that.

Hobbes knocked softly on the side of one of the shelves holding the numerous files in the room. "Hey buddy. Don't mean to surprise you."

Darien shrugged slightly, turning to look over his shoulder, "Hard to be sneaky in dead silence. I heard your breathing. What is it Hobbes?"

Hobbes fidgeted. Even out of the direct sight of Darien, he was still slightly uncomfortable admitting the reason for seeking his partner out. "I just wondered how you were doing? Wanted to make sure you were okay. Wondered if you had any questions about your new shrink."

Darien unfolded his lanky frame and stood. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he assumed a nonchalant stance. "She's not my shrink, Hobbes. And what would you know about her?"

Hobbes smiled. He loved those occasions when he knew something his partner did not. They occurred so seldom. "I know Brenna. I've worked with her on a number of occasions in the past. Though, never as a therapist."

Darien couldn't hide the sudden interest that sprang to his eyes. "You know Brenna?"

Hobbes nodded but offered no further comment.

"Spill partner. This woman says she can help me. Can she?" Darien asked.

Hobbes considered for a moment. "Well, if I had to describe Bree in a nutshell, I'd say that if she says she can do something, then she can do it. No questions asked." Hobbes noted the deep hunger in the eyes of his partner. "What did she promise you?" he asked.

"She said she can teach me to control the madness," Darien whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. He stared Hobbes straight in the eye. "But, she said she needs to witness an episode to truly help me. Hobbes, I don't know if I can go through that on purpose."

Hobbes could almost smell the fear emanating from his partner. He took the time to really think about this request, sensing the importance that might be placed upon his answer. After a few moments musing, he spoke. 

"Darien. I would trust Brenna at my back, any situation, any time. If she says she needs this info, then she needs it. If she says she can help you, then she can help you. I can't claim to understand what you go through, though I know it terrorizes you." 

Darien began to protest. Hobbes held up his hands, seeking silence.

"My friend, you fear it. Admit it. But if she says she can help you control it, then I say you should believe her."

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Darien entered the dojo to the sounds of loud shouts and thuds as students executed their throws. He took a seat along the wall, watching quietly.

Brenna had noticed his approach and entrance, giving him a slight nod of recognition as he took his seat. She allowed her students a few more minutes of practice, finally clapping her hands twice. 

The twenty-two students fell into two perfect lines. She grinned in pride at their enthusiasm, ignoring their current lack of form. She loved teaching the beginners' classes. Such excitement in the eyes of the students. They were still trying to comprehend the whole concept, they weren't yet worried over the nuances of form.

"Excellent workout, deschi!" Brenna took her place at the head of the class, bowing and clapping towards the kamisama in respect of the teachers who had come before her. She turned to offer honor to her students, accepting their proffered honor in return.

Brenna stood, clapping her hands. "Off with you all now. I'll see you all tomorrow at the same time." As the students gathered their gear and left the mat, Brenna turned to look at her new student. She stared at Darien for a few moments, finally waving him over.

Darien stood and began to approach Brenna. A student wearing a white belt intercepted him. "Sir," the young lady began, "You need to remove your shoes and offer honor to the Founder before entering the mat."

Darien gave the young girl a questioning look. In return she mimed stepping up to, but not on the mat, with a bow to the kamisama. Darien nodded his understanding and gave her a grin in thanks.

After following the young student's instructions, he approached Brenna. She nodded a silent greeting and turned to watch her students file out of the dojo.

With carefully designed casualness, Darien asked, "So, I heard you worked with Bobby Hobbes."

Brenna had to stifle sudden laughter. "Uh, Darien. I read most of your file. I knew that Hobbes was your partner. And yes, I have worked with Hobbes. Excellent man. Would offer him my back any day."

At Darien's blank stare, Brenna continued, "When I say "offer my back", it means I trust him to be my back up. I would trust Bobby Hobbes with my life," she finished simply.

It was Darien's turn to stifle laughter. "You have to be kidding me. Hobbes is textbook material."

Brenna gave a slight shake of her head. "You misunderstand the concept of 'partner', Darien. If Hobbes considers you to be his partner, he believes it is his job to do anything … and I mean anything … to protect your life. And if he has called you 'partner', then you are his partner." Brenna cocked her head and gave Darien a silent stare. "Darien, never underestimate Robert Hobbes. Never assume that he is a joke. He is one of the very few agents to whom I would trust my back. And I am very picky. I generally have no need of backup."

"Hobbes said I should trust you," Darien said simply.

Brenna nodded. "Well, if you don't trust me, trust him." 

"You mean about you 'feeling' what it's like for me to go quicksilver mad?" Darien asked.

"That and other things," Brenna replied.

Darien watched the last student leave the dojo. He turned to stare at the petite woman before him. "I trust Hobbes." He dropped to the floor with unconscious grace. "However, I don't trust me," he said simply.

Brenna dropped down to the mat opposite Darien. "Have you been meditating?" she asked.

Darien nodded.

"And what have you learned," she asked.

Darien sighed. "More than I ever wanted to know," he whispered. At Brenna's slight nod he continued, starting with the worst. "I want the fat man dead. I traded 20 years in the pen for a permanent life sentence with him as the warden." Darien looked up, expecting horror in the eyes watching him. He found, instead, simple understanding.

"What? You figured I wouldn't expect that? It's natural to hate the warden, Darien. Problem is, even if the warden dies, someone else will replace him. Sometime the devil you know is better than the one you don't."

Darien jerked his head. "I thought you said you couldn't read minds?" At Brenna's questioning look, he responded, "The devil you know … we lost Charlie for a while… His replacement definitely was not better."

Brenna grinned. "Come on, Darien. It's a popular phrase." She scrutinized his face. "You mean you've never heard it?"

"Yeah, I've heard it," he replied. He gave Brenna a questioning look. "But I didn't expect you to hit so close to home."

"About me going quicksilver mad," Darien began. Brenna smiled softly and waited without concern for Darien to finish. He looked at her a few moments, pondering. "I know you run a dojo and all, so you must be able to take care of your self, but … well… you really have no idea of what you're going to be facing."

"I can take care of myself," Brenna said simply.

"Brenna, you said you didn't read all of my file," Darien asked with a question in his eyes and a smile on his lips. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Well," she began with a mischievous smile, "If you'd like, we can spar for a bit. I guarantee you can't touch me."

Darien grinned. "Been training with Hobbes. I doubt you can take me."

Brenna arched an eyebrow. "Really? Bring it on baby boy." 

Darien came at Brenna, only to be repelled … again and again… and again. Every attack Darien offered, she countered, without effort. 

Darien executed every trick Hobbes had taught him, to no avail. Finally, he stood, panting, his hands on his knees. In contrast, Brenna breathed easily, appearing totally unaffected.

Darien stood with a mischievous grin, "Well … that's all well and good, but how are you going to handle an opponent that you can't see?" With that, Darien disappeared. 

Brenna spent the first split second noting the disappearance of her sparing partner, "Whoa … that is so incredible." She walked right up to Darien and began to touch him. "That is so cool. No wonder you have a "love-hate" relationship with that thing in your head," she noted without any apparent shock or surprise.

Darien responded without thought, "What do you mean "love-hate"… I hate this thing. All I want is to get it out."

"Excitement. I sensed 'excitement' as soon as you decided to do … well whatever it is that you just did … all your frustration was replaced with excitement," Brenna said simply.

Darien was incredulous. "You're feeling what I'm feeling right now?"

"Uh, Darien, That is the whole reason I was hired…" 

Darien made a grab for her, attempting to execute a flip. Brenna turned it into a wrist lock and pushed him away ..letting him go.

She closed her eyes and began tracking Darien as he moved about the room. He rushed her again … only to be thrown again. The battle continued for a few minutes. Deciding he had had enough, Brenna grabbed Darien's wrist, executed a lock, and forced him face first to the mat. Darien struggled for a moment, then reappeared, scattering quicksilver snowflakes.

Darien offered a muffled, "Okay, I guess you can take care of yourself."

Brenna let him go. Darien rolled to his side, resting his head on his hand, as Brenna gathered up a handful of quicksilver flakes.

Brenna closely examined the flakes. "Odd," she muttered.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Darien asked, clearly impressed.

Brenna continued to concentrate on the flakes, oblivious to the question. "Hmm…interesting…."

Darien repeated the question.

Brenna remained distracted, but Darien's repeated questioning slowly brought her back to focus. "Hmm….oh that? I was trained from an early age. My parents recognized the empathic ability early on. They sent me to study with my godfather in Japan when I was five. I guess they figured I would need the ability to defend myself. Of course, government training didn't hurt either." Brenna grinned.

Brenna returned her gaze to the flakes in her hand. "So, how does the invisibility work. I know about the gland and secretions…but how do you do it?"

Darien examined Brenna's face, noting the openness so obviously present. He sat up, tucking his long legs under him. "Well, basically, I jack my adrenaline levels and then direct the flow of the quicksilver. Invisible for 30 minutes, and I go mad. No invisibility, then it takes six days before I go mad. Either way, the gland takes over. That simple."

Brenna gave Darien a slight smile. "Not quite that simple I think. I did read this portion of your files. I'm pretty certain you don't go 'mad', Darien. Maybe, there is a slight loss of control, but…"

Darien interrupted. "No, I go mad. That is not me. I cannot be responsible for those thoughts or feelings."

Brenna sat silently for a few moments, feeling Darien's fear. She reached out and gently touched Darien's knee, gathering his attention. When his eyes finally met hers, she began.

"I can feel your fear Darien and I know its real. And there is a valid basis for it. But you're wrong in thinking the gland has any independent control over you. Scientifically speaking, it simply lowers or eliminates your inhibitions."

"Actually, that's not even true. We really don't have any biological inhibitors. Rather, our brains are wired to evaluate data in any given situation. The gland seems to either skew this process or bypass it. We really don't know enough about the psychology of the brain to determine which."

"I don't understand," Darien said simply.

Brenna pondered a better explanation for a few moments. "Well, from the moment of birth, we begin acquiring social inhibitions, for a variety of reasons."

Darien nodded.

"Think of the average two year old. They do what they want, when they want. They haven't exactly learned the whole concept of cause and effect," Brenna said.

"They don't necessarily recognize that certain behaviors will earn them punishment….and they haven't yet developed the sophistication to recognize that they could probably achieve the same end without punishment via a different means. They simply take the easiest path to get what they want, without even considering the consequences of their actions."

"As the child begins to mature, they realize that punishment is bad and there are other ways…more "societally acceptable" ways to get what they want. They also begin to learn about delayed gratification." Brenna muttered under her breath, "though, that seems to be taught less and less to today's kids."

Darien grinned.

"So, by the time we're adults, this "social conditioning" is ingrained in us. Even though it is generally subconscious, we always execute some type of evaluation before every act. Most of the time, it is subconscious, and very cursory. Due to the massive amount of data we amass over our lifetimes, our brain very quickly plots out any potential consequences and evaluates them. We then take the best course of action based upon that evaluation and our desire."

"Kind of like determining if the risk of getting caught is worth the potential proceeds of the break-in," Darien said.

Brenna nodded and grinned. "Though, that is probably much more a conscious thought." As near as I can figure, to a certain degree, as the quicksilver levels build in your blood, you care less and less about the consequences of your actions. You simply become more focused upon the gratification."

Darien stared down into his lap, running his hands up and down his thighs in nervous habit. He finally stopped the gesture as he recognized what he was doing. He clasped his hands tightly, resting them softly in his lap. He contemplated his folded hands a bit longer, finally looking up to Brenna's waiting gaze. "I don't buy it," he said simply. "I just don't believe that I am capable of controlling my actions during these episodes, no matter what you may think."

"How about if I showed you that Kevin believed the same thing?" Brenna asked.

Darien leaned forward, hope evident in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Brenna stood in one graceful motion. "Just a second. I'll be right back." She walked off towards the atrium, pausing to turn and bow her way off the mat.

Darien sat, picking nervously at the mat until her return. She sat and silently handed him a single sheet of paper. "It's from your file," she said.

Darien looked at the page, noting that various portions had been blacked out. The page appeared to be from a journal of some type, and the handwriting was clearly Kevin's. He began reading what remained. 

"Darien's episode the other night, and his reaction to that episode has me thinking. I know that the research we conducted indicates that the quicksilver is impacting his neural inhibitors, but I believe that Darien can be taught to execute some measure of control. It was him, and not me, that plunged that needle into his arm. Him and not me that administered the sedative. I believe that when the choice finally came to either hurt me or hurt himself, he chose himself, so his conscience still remains, even during these episodes. It is his inhibitions that are lessened, not a core personality change occurring. 

I will need to conduct some further study into the psychology of the matter. Not my area of expertise, but I doubt if Borden will let me bring in an outside expert. I just hope that we can forestall any more episodes until I can figure out how to help Darien. Although I don't know my brother as well as I would like, I do know that the thought of harming someone else, even unintentionally, is going to weigh heavily on his mind. I don't know how long he will be able to take it."

Darien looked up from the page, tears coursing gently down his face. "I didn't know him as well as I would have liked, either. But it seems he knew me better than he thought."

Darien read the page again, softly running his fingertips across the words. He finally laid the paper in his lap and looked up at Brenna. The tears were gone; replaced by a certain calm. "So, you, like Kevin, think I can learn to control this?"

Brenna nodded. "Yes, I do. But it will take some very hard work on your part. Mainly, you have to be willing to own your deepest, darkest emotions."

Darien shuddered slightly. "Like wishing The Official dead?"

"More than that, Darien," Brenna said. "We all have dark emotions; thoughts that flit through our minds so fast we sometimes don't even recognize them as our own. Other times, we think the thought, than immediately take it back."

"Like wishing the car that just cut you off would end up in an accident? Then feeling bad about that thought?" Darien asked.

"Basically," Brenna said. "You may suddenly think that the accident could harm some other, innocent person. Or realize that an accident is extreme compared to the act of cutting you off. Either way, your mind recognizes that your instant thought has consequences beyond what you wished. Accordingly, you pull the thought back."

"Okay. I get it," Darien said. "What I don't get, is how examining all these thoughts is going to help me."

Brenna raised her arms above her head and stretched out her back. She sighed lightly and said, "Well, right now, you are unwilling to recognize what you do during these episodes as an actual part of you. This keeps you from executing any control over the situation. You simply react. By embracing these thoughts and feelings as truly yours, by recognizing that you are capable of such thoughts, as are we all, you should be able to 'act' rather than 'react'. It's kind of hard to put into words."

Brenna could feel the beginnings of understanding, but Darien was clearly still confused. Brenna pulled a rumpled sheet of lined paper from her sleeve and smoothed it out. She began scanning the notes written there.

"Let's see," she said. "There was the needle incident with Kevin. You fled from Jessica rather than harm her. Then there was your attempt to kill yourself rather than shoot Hobbes. There was your refusal to play hitman for Lawson ('Never did like that little prick', she muttered.) All in all, I would say that you usually act within some bounds of conscience." She looked up at Darien.

"You forgot that I tried to kill Hobbes by choking him, and that I nearly killed The Official," Darien said.

"Well, my understanding on the Hobbes incident is that you were operating under other pressures as well. And the Official incident wasn't you. It was Simon Cole," Brenna said.

"You know," Darien began. "For someone who hasn't read all of my file, you sure know a lot."

Brenna grinned. "Well, Claire thought it was important for me to know about all of your episodes. I tended to agree with that decision."

Darien looked from the paper in his hand to the one in Brenna's, his hope slowly building. "Okay. I think I can see how this might work. But I'm still not ready to go mad just so you can see what it feels like."

Brenna shrugged. "It's not something I ask lightly, nor do I want you doing it until you are ready. If you decide you can't do it, that's fine. We will figure out something else. Keep working on your meditations in the meantime, and drop by when you wish."

"That's it?" Darien asked. "Just 'drop by whenever'?"

Brenna nodded and stood, effectively ending the session.

Darien held onto the paper as he gained his feet. Quietly he asked, "May I keep this?"

"Certainly," Brenna said. "I made that copy for you. I figured you hadn't seen it yet. Hell, there's probably a lot of stuff in your file you haven't seen yet."

"Don't I know it," Darien said as he walked towards the door.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Brenna entered The Official's office and calmly took her seat, waiting for him to recognize her presence. Charlie opted to continue with his work, hoping to unbalance the agent before him. After fifteen minutes of her perfect, unmoving silence, he gave up the game, recognizing that if he tried to draw it out much longer, he would be the looser.

"So," he said, closing the file before him and giving Brenna a direct stare.

"So," she replied calmly.

A few minutes of silence ensued. Charlie quickly realized he would lose this contest of wills as well. He sighed heavily. "Okay, so what do you have to report? Any progress?"

Brenna grinned. "Nope. No significant progress as of yet. It will take some time for him to recognize that all those thoughts and feelings are his own. Then we will need to work on control during the episodes."

"Timeline?" Charlie asked.

Brenna shrugged. "Can't really give you one as of yet. Until I can get more information from him, and he learns to trust me, we will continue to move at a crawl."

The Official rubbed his hand along his chin, contemplating the likelihood of an answer to his next question. "So, what are his deepest, darkest feelings?"

"Nice try, Chuck," Brenna said. "But you know my rules."

"Yes," he said. "And you know I had to try."

Brenna stood and walked to the door. She opened it and then turned back to The Official. "I'll let you know when there's any progress." She paused for a second, "And by the way, you should get some better security for this room." She replied to Charlie's questioning look with her own evil grin. "I'm certain you'll figure it out sooner or later."

Brenna left, closing the door behind her. She walked to the first bend in the corridor and then leaned against the wall, waiting patiently. After a few moments, she said, "Did you hear anything you didn't like?"

Snowflakes of quicksilver fell to the ground as Darien became visible. "You knew I was there?"

"Of course," Brenna said, smiling softly. "Were you there the first time?"

Darien offered a sheepish grin and a slight nod. "But how come you knew this time and not then?"

Brenna stood straight and started walking down the hallway, forcing Darien to follow. "We'll, I hadn't seen Charlie in a long time, so I didn't remember what he 'felt' like. And I hadn't met you yet, so didn't know how you would feel either. Today I knew both." She shrugged. "Not to mention the fact that since reading your entire file, I am now infinitely more suspicious of cold drafts." She grinned up at Darien.

Darien nodded understanding as they stopped before the front door. "Well, I have an appointment with the Keeper, I mean Claire." 

"See ya soon then Darien," Brenna said as Darien turned back the way they had come.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Darien entered the Keep to find Claire hunched over her desk, writing notes. Without turning, Claire said, "Just take a seat Darien. I'll be with you in just a moment." She continued jotting down her lab notes.

Darien walked over and took his seat in the examine chair. "You know," he said. "That's the second time in less than 15 minutes that someone has recognized me without seeing me."

Claire paused in her writing. "Well, we had an appointment at this time. I simply assumed it was you."

Claire closed the book and walked over to him. "Have you been spying on people, Darien?" she asked teasingly.

"I'm a spy. That's my job," Darien said. Muttering, he added, "Well, when I'm not busy being a lab rat."

Claire simply gave him a look as she began the usual cursory examination that preceded a counteragent shot. Taking note of his tattoo, she said, "Ah, a bit higher than it should be. So you were doing invisible spying then?" 

Darien remained silent. 

"Hmm, if your subject knew, than I am guessing that it was probably Brenna. Am I right?" she asked.

Darien nodded.

"So how are your sessions with Brenna going?" she asked, turning to begin the dilution process.

"Fine I guess, though I'm not really certain how much I trust her. I mean, Hobbes trusts her, which is a good recommendation. And I assume you trust her or you wouldn't have picked her, but…" Darien trailed off.

Claire walked over to her desk, unlocked a file cabinet and withdrew a slender sheaf of papers. She returned to Darien's side and held out her hand.

Darien took the papers and asked, "What's this?"

"Brenna said I should give that to you if you asked about her. It's an abridged version of her file and history. She figured that since she knew so much about you, you had the right to know about her. She figured you wouldn't ask her directly, so she planned ahead."

As Darien scanned through the pages, Claire administered the shot of counteragent. She began cleaning up the mess and returning everything to its proper place.

"Holy crap! She did wet work? No wonder she can handle herself so well." Darien looked over at Claire in shock. "Your best friend is an assassin?"

Claire nodded. "She was an assassin, but that was about ten years ago, and only for a short time. She refused assignments too often."

"Why?" Darien asked.

"I guess it was because she could feel what her target's felt," Claire said.

Darien continued reading. "She's led a rather interesting life."

"Yes," said Claire. "She's a very special person. Did you know that all the students at her dojo are on scholarships? She doesn't charge any of them for their training."

"Making up for past wrongs perhaps?" Darien asked.

"Perhaps," Claire agreed. "You may take that with you, but she asked that you either return it to her, or burn it when you have read all the way through it."

Darien hopped off the chair. "Thanks Claire. For this," he said, motioning to the papers. "And for the shot."

"My pleasure, Darien. Be careful tonight. Bobby said this assignment will be tricky, even given your special talents." Claire's concern was evident.

Darien smiled at her. "I'll be careful. I promise." 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Brenna woke to the pitch blackness of the dead of night. She calmly extended her senses, quickly recognizing the intruder. She muttered a few choice phrases under her breath.

"Would have to be the middle of the freakin' night."

She grabbed her robe and headed down to the training room.

She silently approached the figure seated dead center of the mat. The barest hint of light crept through the shuttered blinds from the street lights outside, shrouding the figure in disconcerting shadows.

She crossed the mat in silence and knelt directly across from the seated figure, into a perfect seiza in the same quiet.

"Darien." It was not a question.

At his controlled nod, she continued. "You could have knocked."

"Sometimes the talents of a thief come in handy. I figured I would simply wait till you awoke. I have a few hours yet."

Brenna nodded. "I can feel it building. Do you want to wait or force it?"

Darien finally turned his eyes from the mat, but failed to meet her gaze. The bare light from the street was sufficient to illuminate the streaks of blood decorating the haunted eyes.

"I would rather let it come….if you have the time," he said hoarsely.

Brenna nodded. "I have all the time in the world, Darien. You want to just wait, or would you like to talk for a while?"

As Darien sat staring at her, Brenna could feel the warring factions within the young man before her. A part of Darien yearned for the oncoming freedom from all responsibility, the complete loss of any remaining self-doubt; the second half lived in dread of the actions he might take. 

Brenna reached out to calmly grasp one slightly trembling hand. A small wave of relief washed over the figure before her as his eyes turned to bore hungrily into her own.

"You can feel all of this?" he asked. With her silent nod he continued, "Then you understand what I will be capable of? And you know that it terrifies me?"

She squeezed the hand in reassurance. "I know Darien. Take comfort. I will be safe. I have faith in you."

Darien clenched his hand, causing Brenna to shudder slightly from the unexpected pain. "I'm stronger now. The adrenaline is flowing. Did you consider that in your equation?"

Brenna executed a deft move, freeing her hand with little effort. Just as quickly, she again grasped Darien's hand. "I'm not concerned. And yes, I considered that side-effect."

Darien nodded slightly and gave the offered hand a gentle squeeze. "The pain will be almost unbearable when the time comes," he said breathlessly, looking away. "I fight it, but it comes anyway."

"So don't fight it," Brenna replied.

"Don't fight it? Do you have any idea of the things I have done…tried to do when the madness comes? Darien asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Darien. Remember?" Brenna smiled softly. "We have discussed this. You don't do anything that would not have occurred to you to do at any other time. It's simply that you are more likely to act. You are not possessed Darien."

Darien nodded reluctantly, returning his gaze to the far wall. They sat quietly for a few minutes, the pressure slowly building within Darien. Brenna could feel the slow change, and the slowly building fear.

"You sure you wouldn't rather speed this up?" she asked.

Without comment, Darien faded from sight. Brenna could feel the steady pressure of his hand in hers, however, the steady pressure in her mind built to a rising torrent. Incredible pain suddenly blasted through her mind. Without hesitation, she reached out and masked the pain in the figure writhing before her.

Like a puppet on a string, Darien sat straight up, quicksilver snowflaking all around him. His eyes rose slowly to lock onto Brenna's. "Unnerving, isn't it?" he asked without preamble.

Brenna fought the urge to release the hand that held hers so tightly and turn on any light. Darien's eyes were now blood red. No white showed. 

Darien's emotions and desires flowed over Brenna, constantly in flux, constantly examined and discarded as irrelevant, with little pause for conscience thought between. Feelings of lust, of hunger, of revenge, of hatred, of distrust, and of deep abiding love and friendship rolled across Brenna in rapid succession. One thought remained ever present. Security. Was he safe here? Was trust warranted? 

"You are safe," she said.

"Am I?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head.

Brenna attempted to project feelings of security.

"No mind tricks!" he said, jerking his hand free.

Brenna withdrew. Thinking furiously, she changed tactics. "Darien? Did you by any chance think to bring some counteragent with you?"

The pause in the swirling emotions was evident. "Why?" he asked with suspicion.

"Well," Brenna began sarcastically, "I would really prefer that we are able to stop this experiment via a nice little injection, rather than me kicking your butt and knocking you unconscious." 

For a moment, Darien was tempted. He reached up to unconsciously massage his face. The memory of his recent beating by the petite figure before him gave him pause. "I brought a dose of counteragent with me," he replied. Darien grinned. "Though, I must say that the thought tempts me."

"I know," Brenna said simply, smiling in return.

Darien looked at her for a moment. "So the experiment is finished? You have enough?"

Brenna nodded. "Whenever you are ready."

Darien reached into his coat pocket with his free hand, withdrawing a small syringe filled with a pale blue liquid. He offered the needle to the woman before him.

She refused. "You do it."

Darien looked down at the syringe, touching it lightly. He raised his head to meet her calm gaze. "I've never done this before."

"Are you willing?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said.

Darien returned his gaze to the object in his hand, twirling it around a few times. He shrugged the other arm loose from the constraints of his jacket and looked at the bare skin. Brenna reached over and removed the tourniquet from his jacket pocket, applying it with deft skill. Darien lined up the needle, and looked up to meet Brenna's gaze.

"You can help me?" he asked.

She nodded.

Without removing his eyes from hers, he plunged the needle into his vein and fed his addiction. His eyes fluttered for a moment. He withdrew the needle, discarding it casually onto the floor. Just prior to collapsing into her lap, he whispered two words.

"Thank you."


End file.
